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Description
There's nothing to say. I can feel my heart bleeding inside, slowly, like a candle whose flame silently screams for oxygen but cannot find it. Light filters through, but I do not see it. The green of the grass is no longer green, no longer lush and beautiful, but dead and decaying. There's nothing to say, and I stand at the shore allowing the sea lap at my feet. My fists ere clenched, and my face stings, but my fists are at my side, clenched but not broken. I feel fresh tears form, but the wind carries it away, bringing with it an unquenchable thirst and anger. There is pain, yes; but the pan is minute in comparison to the anger coursing within me. But, there is nothing left to say. The trees around me grow dark and gnarled, like witches with smoking cauldrons, and I stand taller, shaking with either zeal or hate, I do not know or dare discover.

And yet, in this dark forest that surrounds me, there is but one flower, soft as silk and bright as day. I reach toward it, and unlike the world, it does not shrink from my touch. Branches slash at every exposed part of me, trying to find my weak point, trying to find the pain they know is treasured within me. But to no avail, for I am not longer preoccupied with their attacks. No, the flowers, so out of place in this brazen land has captured my attention in its entirety, and I can but stare at it and smile softly knowing that their is light in the darkness, a smile in the frown, and a heart in the wicked.

And the sun shines.

Description
There's nothing to say. I can feel my heart bleeding inside, slowly, like a candle whose flame silently screams for oxygen but cannot find it. Light filters through, but I do not see it. The green of the grass is no longer green, no longer lush and beautiful, but dead and decaying. There's nothing to say, and I stand at the shore allowing the sea lap at my feet. My fists ere clenched, and my face stings, but my fists are at my side, clenched but not broken. I feel fresh tears form, but the wind carries it away, bringing with it an unquenchable thirst and anger. There is pain, yes; but the pan is minute in comparison to the anger coursing within me. But, there is nothing left to say. The trees around me grow dark and gnarled, like witches with smoking cauldrons, and I stand taller, shaking with either zeal or hate, I do not know or dare discover.

And yet, in this dark forest that surrounds me, there is but one flower, soft as silk and bright as day. I reach toward it, and unlike the world, it does not shrink from my touch. Branches slash at every exposed part of me, trying to find my weak point, trying to find the pain they know is treasured within me. But to no avail, for I am not longer preoccupied with their attacks. No, the flowers, so out of place in this brazen land has captured my attention in its entirety, and I can but stare at it and smile softly knowing that their is light in the darkness, a smile in the frown, and a heart in the wicked.

And the sun shines.